


Michigan Driver

by Songbirdsara



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: American movie references, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara
Summary: Mari Katsuki loves her little brother. She really does.She just really, deeply distrusts this Phichit Chulanont fellow...
Relationships: Katsuki Mari & Katsuki Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 19
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

Mari Katsuki had only met her brother’s best friend and former roommate a handful of times, but she was certain of one thing.

Phichit Chulanont was not to be trusted.

Oh, not in the “he’ll stab you in the back and steal your boyfriend” sort of way. Phichit was no Regina George. No, he was worse. A Ferris Bueller. Not a conniver, but an instigator.

And her poor brother was Cameron Frye. 

***

It started with a phone call. 

“Mari. You can’t. I can’t. Not Michigan drivers. Why Michigan drivers?”

Mari glanced at her bedside clock. Barely 8 in the morning, so it was early evening in Detroit. “Yuuri? Are you drunk?”

“He’s not even _from_ Michigan,” her brother muttered darkly, ignoring her question. 

She sighed, swinging her feet over the side of the bed and patting the mattress. Vicchan hopped up, tail wagging. “Your papa has lost his mind,” she said dryly. 

Over the line, Yuuri hiccupped. “I-is that Vicchan? Give him a hug. I might die before I can.”

Mari ruffled her hand through the toy poodle’s curls. “Okay, _otouto,_ gonna actually start worrying here. You okay?”

“’M fine,” Yuuri slurred. “’S just Phichit.” 

“Ooookay?”

“Mari. Mari. _Mari._ Shoulders aren’t for passing!” 

With that bewildering and strangely high-pitched declaration, her brother hung up, leaving her to wonder just who, exactly, Yuuri was sharing a room with.

***

Yuuri, true to his nature, was reticent about the conversation when she brought it up later. 

“Oh, haha, you know me, I just got nervous about something silly.”

“You hung up on me.”

“I…got another call? A really important one?”

Mari smirked. “Right. Unless Victor Nikiforov was on that line, I can’t imagine you just hanging up on your sister. Your _older_ sister. Who is working tirelessly at the _onsen_ while you’re off getting drunk in America.” She paused, waiting. If there was anything that worked on her brother, it was the guilt card. Sure enough…

_“Gomen_ , Mari _nee-chan_! I didn’t mean to be rude!”

She sighed, imagining her brother sinking into a panicked _dogeza,_ phone still attached to his ear. “ _Ugh_ , Yuuri, you’re fine. You just worried me. Something about shoulders? And passing?” A long silence ensued, and Mari fumbled for her cigarettes, resigning herself to a long, and likely confusing, conversation. 

“Celestino learned how to drive in Italy.”

Mari inhaled the tobacco, trying to parse out that seeming non-sequitur. “Ooookay?”

A deep sigh echoed through the line. “He offered to teach Phichit. Somehow it worked. Kind of.”

She frowned. How did one ‘kind of’ learn to drive? “Phichit’s almost 18. He should probably know how to drive, it’s legal in the States, right? _You_ know how to drive.”

“Mari, I’m 21.”

She blinked. Was he? She counted backwards. _Shit_. He _was_. “I know,” she replied, unwilling to let her younger brother realize she’d lost track of their ages somehow. “Still don’t know what all of this has to do with shoulders? Or passing.”

“Mari, he stopped to take a selfie on 8 Mile.”

She blinked. “Like, the movie? With the white rapper?”

Another deep sigh came through her earpiece. “Yes. It’s a real place, Mari. A road.”

“Well, that’s kind of cool, right?”

“He was _driving_ at the time. He posted it to Instagram. I thought I was going to die.”

“Wait, what?” Mari flipped her phone into speaker mode, before pulling up her Instagram app. She mainly used it to stalk keep track of her favorite musicians. Namely the blond idol Takao, but still. How had she missed her brother’s roommate posting pictures of her favorite cryptid sibling? The kid was the top-rated male skater in Japan and somehow still managed to skate under the radar. Literally. It was some sort of weird anxiety-induced superpower, really. 

A few seconds of searching led her to pay dirt. 

**phichit+chu** had the sort of follower count that was typically restricted to minor celebrities. Which, given the Thai skater’s own abilities and his association with Japan’s Ace, probably made sense. And, even better, the account yielded a shocking number of previously unknown photos of her little brother. Perfect for her contact starved parents.

Or perfect blackmail fuel. 

“Mari?” came the worried query. “Did I lose the connection?”

“Oh! Nonono, little brother. I’m right here. Tell me more about Phichit’s driving!”

***

Minako was the one to bring her brother home two years later. Her parents had offered to give her the day off, but she’d demurred, something brittle and painful holding her back.

She’d had to be the one to tell Yuuri about Vicchan. She couldn’t imagine hers was the first face he’d want to see. Still, she couldn’t avoid him forever, and she had the whole ‘big-sister’ role to fulfill so…

“Yuuri. Welcome home.”

Her brother, adorably plump and wide-eyed, glanced up at her from where he’d knelt in front of the tiny shrine. 

_You graduated_ , she had pointed out, even if it _had_ taken him longer than expected. _I’ll support you_ , she had offered, not sure what it was he wanted to do. _Go soak in the hot springs_ , she had suggested, knowing he must have missed the warmth and comfort, far away in the cold land of Detroit. He had shuffled off, head down in a way that made her heart lurch guiltily. Was his failure in Sochi and at All-Japan the fault of her shitty timing? No, it would have been worse for her to withhold information, surely. 

Still. 

When her mother reluctantly admitted that Yuuri’d slipped off to the Ice Castle later that night, she couldn’t help feeling that she should have said something more…comforting. That is, until she found Minako swaying in front of the television, watching a figure skating competition that must surely have felt like salt in Yuuri’s wounds.

“Huh. Still so sensitive,” she commented dryly, realizing why her brother had fled. Minako ignored her, rambling at the television. Something about Victor Nikiforov and “dewy-eyed youngsters.” 

Mari snorted. He might not be _that_ young, but Yuuri certainly still had the dewy-eyed part down. She watched the screen with narrowed eyes, focusing on the man that her brother practically idolized. The music was depressing, and the guy looked like he’d lost the love of his life, but she had to admit that there was something compelling about the choreography. She turned away before the scores were announced. Yuuri wasn’t there, so she wasn’t that interested in the results. She _was_ kind of interested to see what Yuuri could do with a similar program, but, eh, maybe he’d compete again someday. 

More than just part of her hoped he would.

She woke the next day to an alert on her phone. **phichit+chu** had shared a video from an account she was pretty sure belonged to Yuuko’s triplets. When she clicked the video, she realized _why_ he’d shared it. And with his follower count, combined with Yuuri’s performance…

Going viral was virtually guaranteed.

A shriek echoed through the family wing and she smirked. Sounded like Yuuri had discovered the video, too. She shrugged to herself. Phichit had probably meant well, and maybe it’d be the push Yuuri needed to go back to chasing his dreams. She tied on her headband and got dressed, ready to face another day. The video was harmless, soon shoved to the back of her mind.

It wasn’t like anything bad could come of something so silly.

A few days later, when the world’s most ridiculous Russian skater started following her brother around the _onsen_ like a lost puppy, she revised her opinion. Social media was one of the greatest evils of modern times.

And she couldn’t decide which of the two lovelorn idiots moping around the _onsen_ was worse. There were two things she did know, however.

Phichit Chulanont was a menace.

And this was definitely his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mari gets used to Victor's melodramatic ways.
> 
> She still doesn't trust Phichit.

“…so I started changing his oil in secret. He thought it was just a suggestion!”

“Woo~oow! How long had it been?”

“Um, he’d never had it changed? In two years?”

“Yuuri! This is terrible! You could have died! What if the car had exploded?”

“I don’t think that’s really how it works, Victor…”

“Yuuri! You said he passes on the wrong side! You _could_ have died!”

“Th-those are two different things! Ohmygod, stop, you’re smothering me!”

Mari shook her head as the conversation she’d absolutely been unashamedly eavesdropping on devolved into incoherent giggling at the low table across the room. 

Her brother continued to insist that Victor was only interested in his skating.

To be fair, her brother was kind of dumb sometimes... 

_Onsen on Ice_. 

An entire summer of the most painfully obvious flirting she’d ever witnessed. 

Yurio.

Nikiforov somehow managing to turn a regional competition into global news with his incredibly, uh, _hands-on_ approach to coaching.

Of course, Yuuri had then managed to top even his coach’s theatrics with an on air declaration of love that, to her knowledge, Victor was still in the dark about.

And now they were in the midst of something that was rapidly turning into an impromptu cuddle session in the middle of the dining room. She sighed as Makkachin decided to join in on the fun.

Mari decided then and there that she should be nominated for honorary sainthood of a religion to which she didn’t even adhere.

“What are you two idiots even talking about?” she finally asked, hoping to cut off their weird mating ritual.

Yuuri straightened rapidly, suddenly cognizant of their audience. Mari resisted the temptation to laugh as Victor, who had been draped over Yuuri’s shoulder, fell to the tatami with a thud at the movement. He recovered quickly, grinning airily as if he’d fallen intentionally. 

Yuuri smiled fondly at him before answering Mari’s question. “Oh! Phichit’s going to be at the Cup of China, so I was telling Victor stories about when we lived together.”

“ _Horror_ stories, Mari!” Victor exclaimed. 

“Oh,” she replied, in a deadpan tone. “Did he tell you about the time Phichit lost one of his hamsters in the car and didn’t tell Yuuri?” 

Victor narrowed his eyes and turned to glare at his so-called student. “He did _not_.”

Yuuri rustled a hand through the hair at the back of his neck, face flushed. “Oh. Ah, well. It was while I was driving, actually. Arthur crawled over my foot while we were on the highway.”

“If I recall correctly, you almost crashed,” Mari drawled, watching for Nikiforov’s reaction. She’d been pretty horrified herself, although it wasn’t the worst of the stories that had come out of her brother’s time in Detroit. 

Victor gasped in shock that, for once, didn’t sound like an attempt at melodrama. “Yuuri! That’s so dangerous! You really _could_ have died!”

Yuuri waved his hands frantically. “Nononono, i-it really wasn’t that bad, the roads were pretty empty, it was just a teeny swerve!”

“Not what you said when you called me in hysterics that night,” Mari pointed out, still watching the Russian skater-turned-coach. 

“Yuuuuuu~uuri!” Victor practically wailed, throwing himself back into her brother’s arms. Yuuri glared at her in exasperation over the taller man’s shaking shoulders. After a few moments, he carefully extracted himself from Victor’s limpet-like embrace and stalked out of the room, muttering some excuse about checking on dinner. As soon as he’d disappeared, Victor straightened up, all trace of his previous hysterics gone from his suddenly sober face. 

“Mari,” he said earnestly. “I’m not sure Phichit Chulanont can be trusted with Yuuri’s safety.” 

She blinked hard, slightly surprised. Silently, she poured out a round of sake from the bottle she’d been nursing, offering one of the glasses to Victor and raising her own to clink against it. “That, Nikiforov, is something we can agree on.” 

They drank in silence, united in their belief.

***

She watched her brother and his… _coach…_ leave for Beijing, Victor waxing maudlin in his farewell to Makkachin. 

“You’re going to scare him off, Mari!” her mother scolded as the cab pulled away from the onsen. 

“ _Pffft,_ ” Mari huffed, already reaching for her cigarettes, ignoring her mother’s eternal frown of disapproval. “Pretty sure that would be impossible.”

Hiroko’s frown smoothed out into a small but happy smile. “He does seem rather fond of our Yuuri, doesn’t he?” 

_Right. Fond._ That _was the word._ Mari kept her thoughts to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she clucked in Makkachin’s direction, drawing the big floofball’s attention. “Taking Makka for a walk, back in a bit,” she called in her mother’s direction. Hiroko waved cheerfully, dusting her hands off on her apron before turning to head back inside. 

Yuuri usually managed to stay pretty under the radar at competitions, his professionalism (and his natural camera-shy personality) keeping him from the worst of the press scandals that some of the other skaters reveled in.

Of course, if _Minako_ had her way, Yuuri’d be more like that flirt of a Swiss skater. Giacomo. Giacometti? Whatever. The guy was probably having literal orgasms on the ice. She’d rather not think of her brother pulling that kind of stunt, thank you very much.

Whatever. Even though having Chulanont and Victor at one competition sounded like a recipe for disaster, she was certain her brother would manage to keep the damage contained for one measly weekend.

***

Mari was already well on her way to drunk by the time Minako burst through the _onsen_ doors the following evening. 

“Mari! Have you _seen_ …”

“Fucking Chulanont,” Mari muttered under her breath. 

Minako blinked before snagging the sake bottle out of Mari’s grasp. “Well, I think Victor bears at least _some_ of the blame,” she sniffed. “He _is_ the one draped mostly naked over poor Yuuri-chan, after all.”

Mari retrieved her sake, pouring another serving while glaring down at her phone, Instagram still open to the Thai menace’s page. “Nope. This is Chulanont’s fault. I don’t know _how_ , but he’s behind this.”

***

When Chulanont took gold, Mari felt justified in her earlier reaction. 

“I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing, Mari,” Yuuko insisted after their public viewing had ended. “Victor TOTALLY kissed Yuuri! On international tv! It’s so romantic!”

Sure. It was sweet. Her brother deserved to snag the man of his dreams. _Ganbatte,_ little brother, etc, etc. 

But if Chulanont thought he could slip by without Katsuki Mari noticing his sly little maneuvers, the kid had another thing coming.

“Oi, _okaa-san,_ ” she drawled, earning a raised eyebrow from her mother. She waved off her mother’s obvious scrutiny, continuing: “If Yuuri makes the Final, don’t you think one of us should be there to, ah…” she hesitated, trying to figure out how to say ‘keep an eye on Chulanont’ without, you know, actually _saying_ that…

“Mari! Of course, you should go cheer on our Yuuri!” Okaa-san gushed, her eyes sparkling with pride. 

Sure. Mari could go with that if it got her mom on her side. 

Now she just needed to get Minako in on her plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind words on the first chapter! This was a fun little bit of silliness back when I wrote the first chapter (a year ago!!) but I didn't really intend to do anything with it! I'm glad I gave in and posted it :) 
> 
> Thanks go out to Denrhea for Beta reading this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> When it's YOI day and ALSO your darling fandom friend's bday... well, you dig into your secret trove of unpublished fanfics and pull things out!
> 
> But seriously, this was written for PeppyBismilk ages ago and never saw the light of day. Hope you enjoy at least a bit!


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